


Couldn't Forget If I Tried

by PennamePersona



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Rose & Alpha Dave in Rebellion Times, Alpha Universe, And Dave & Rose in post-canon happy ending, Gen, Just mentions of canon tragic ends, Memories, Perspective shifts, Post-Canon, Sibling Relationship, Some mild description of unpleasant death at the end, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 09:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennamePersona/pseuds/PennamePersona
Summary: “Do you ever remember things that didn’t happen to you?” Dave asks.“Depends on how you mean that,” Rose says.orThe nightmares of a lifetime you didn't lead, but that you can't escape, anyway.





	Couldn't Forget If I Tried

**Author's Note:**

> This is a secret santa gift for tumblr user problematic-memes! I love writing Dave & Rose sibling stuff, so I was thrilled to see that you're also into that. I hope you enjoy this!

Rose Lalonde stands in front of her mirror, holding a wine glass.

 

She is in a black evening gown that falls to her ankles, which are covered in the straps of short heels. She’s wearing pearls on her neck, in her ears, on her wrists, which are also covered in long gloves.

 

What she sees, though, is yellow and orange, falling in a split. Leggings ending in bright blue shoes. A sun emblazoned on her chest. A hood covering her head, shading her eyes. That same knowing, mysterious smile that she’s tried to copy throughout her life.

 

She turns around to call for Dave to tell her if she looks alright, then drops her glass.

 

_Dave?_

 

* * *

 

“Dave!” Rose screams, before she even opens her eyes.

 

She’s jolted up in bed, sweat beading on her forehead. She opens her eyes to soft, dawn light folding in through gaps in the curtains. She looks around her room. It’s full of plush furniture and bookshelves, unlit candles and fabric strewn around. There’s a closet slightly open, flowing garments barely visible in the dimness.

 

She looks to her side, sees a picture frame on her bedside table, and grabs it. She sees a bright day, colorful flowers everywhere, folding chairs, and herself and another woman holding hands. The woman’s skin is gr-

 

It’s Kanaya.

 

Rose breathes out a sigh, her entire body relaxing.

 

She’s safe.

 

* * *

 

Dave Strider leans against the railing of one of the many balconies in the obnoxious mansion he’s pretending he owns for the night. He takes another drink of apple juice he’s calling scotch, careful not to spill it on his tuxedo t-shirt.

 

He’s so tired.

 

He’s throwing this party for authors in Hollywood, because he got an email daring him to, and he’s completely wrung out on pretending to actually give a shit about producers and actors and all the stupidly rich people he has to deal with in order to put his movies on the screen, get out whatever messages he can about the fucking alien bitch getting ready to destroy the planet. At least authors are more likely to care about a decent message.

 

“Mr. Strider,” Someone says from behind him, and Dave groans.

 

“God, I’m begging you to just fuckin’ call me Dave,” He says. “I’m wearing a t-shirt, let’s not pretend I’m professional.”

 

He hears a sharp intake of breath, like a gasp someone didn’t allow to break free. He turns around to see someone about his age in a lilac suit, accented with black. Their hair is short and white, like his, but cut more femininely. They’re holding a wine glass full of very much unfermented grape juice.

 

“Who are you?” Dave asks, and though he has no idea why, his voice cracks. He reaches up and feels wetness around his eyes, like he’s trying to cry.

 

“Rose,” The person says. “My name is Rose Lalonde.”

 

Dave gets weak at the knees, catching himself against the balcony.

 

“I know this is going to sound farfetched,” Rose says, walking very slowly and carefully towards him, like she thinks she’s gonna spook him, like she thinks he could possibly run away. “But I believe that we have some sort of - ”

 

“Fuck, what took you so long, Rose?” Dave says, letting the words spill out before he thinks about them, like when he’s writing the first drafts of his scripts, before he edits out all the mentions of the Medium and Skaia and the Outer Ring and _Dirk_.

 

“You…” Rose looks confused, hopeful, terrified. “Do you know?”

 

“I don’t know what I know,” Dave says, catching Rose on her elbows. “Much less why. But I know you’re my sister, I know I’ve been waiting for you, and I know this is gonna be a lot better with the two of us working together.”

 

* * *

 

Dave wakes up when Rose picks up the phone.

 

“Dave?” She says, sounding tired. “What is it?”

 

“Uh,” He says, blinking awake, his brain still coming back online. “Huh?”

 

“Dave?” Rose asks, much more alert now. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” He says, slowly, pushing the words through the fact that it’s 3 in the morning, apparently. “I don’t know why I called, I woke up with the phone already in my hand.”

 

“Bad dream?” She asks.

 

* * *

 

“Bad dream?” He asks.

 

Rose stares out the window of their hotel room.

 

“I haven’t slept.” She says.

 

“Rose,” Dave sighs, slipping out of his bed. “C’mon. You can’t drink yourself through the rebellion.”

 

“What rebellion?” She asks. “It’s just us, Dave. Us and a fracturing hope that I’m not hallucinating these visions.”

 

“You aren’t the only one who knows things,” He says, sitting down in the chair next to her. “I’ve been dealing with broken time all my life, and I know it got better when you found me.”

 

Rose doesn’t say anything, but Dave can see the redness of her eyes.

 

He puts a hand on her arm, and she leans against him.

 

“I’m scared,” She says. “I know what’s going to happen.”

 

“Me too.” He says. “But you’re not alone, Rose. We’ve got each other.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you ever remember things that didn’t happen to you?” Dave asks, staring down at his bright red knitting needles.

 

“Depends on how you mean that,” Rose says, not looking up from her own knitting.

 

“Like doomed timelines.” Dave says, and her clicking stops.

 

“Yes,” She says, quietly. “But only bits and pieces. Dreams more than memories.”

 

“Yeah,” Dave says. “Me too.”

 

They’re silent and still for a moment that stretches into milliseconds in Dave’s mind, and then he’s hugging his sister tightly, maybe too tightly, except that she’s gripping him right back.

 

“I don’t want to do the hard shit without you,” He says, voice cracking without his intent, but with his blessing. “You make dealing with it so much easier.”

 

“So do you,” She says, and her voice sounds like a broken wineglass on the floor of a cheap hotel room broken into to escape a dictator’s drones for one more night.

 

“I love you,” He says, and his whisper feels like looking up at a shredded billboard and losing the feeling in his fingers from gripping his sword too tightly. “I’m so glad we had each other.”

 

“So am I,” She says.

 

Their knitting lies on the ground, forgotten for the moment. Dave Strider and Rose Lalonde hold each other like a brother who never meant to let his sister feel alone, like a sister who never meant to leave her brother’s fears unchallenged.

 

A thousand splintered, impossible choices away, Dave Strider bleeds out on a sword, phone in hand, while Rose Lalonde rides down a waterfall with her grotesque destiny fulfilled.

 

_Proud of you, sis._

 

His thumb slips against the send button while his breath rattles, and a wireless attachment reads his text into her ear. She smiles, and her final comfort echoes in the moments between siblings who never had to lose each other.

 

Not this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays!
> 
> I take writing requests! Information at: [provisionalpenname on tumblr](https://provisionalpenname.tumblr.com)


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